


The Taming of the Cybernetically-Enhanced Death-Shrew From Planet Luphom

by seriousfic



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 04:39:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2838263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seriousfic/pseuds/seriousfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing says Christmas like trying to keep the two adopted daughters of a psychotic alien death-god from killing each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Taming of the Cybernetically-Enhanced Death-Shrew From Planet Luphom

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jayjaybe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jayjaybe/gifts).



Plan A didn’t work. Plan B was a complete failure. Plan C wasn’t so hot either. But Plan D worked, even if there were some scurrilous rumors aboard the Milano that there’d been no Plan D and it was just what they retroactively called Groot tripping Nebula after she managed to get in a lucky shot on Gamora, lose Drax in the crowd, and dodge the micro-missiles that Rocket launched at her.

 

(They’d expressed their sincerest apologies to the owner of the storefront that’d been hit; or would’ve if they hadn’t urgently needed to leave to meet anyone other than the Galactic Police onboard Bullion Station.)

 

So now they were onboard the Milano, flying the starlanes, with an unconscious super-assassin in their holding cell/the third bathroom that didn’t work and could be locked from the outside, that was weird.

 

“Seriously,” Peter demanded, “no one thought what we were going to do with her once we actually captured Gamora’s crazy sister?”

 

“I thought we were going to turn her in for a bounty,” Rocket said.

 

“I thought we were going to launch her into a black hole,” Drax said.

 

“We can still turn her in for a bounty…”

 

“I am Groot!” someone added.

 

“We’re not turning her in for a bounty or dumping her on a lava planet or whatever any of you geniuses are going to come up with next!” Gamora stated emphatically.

 

Rocket snapped his fingers. “Dumped on a lava planet…” he said approvingly.

 

“No! She’s my sister, and you don’t just dump family on a lava planet!”

 

“Gamora’s right,” Peter said. “I may not know a lot about family, but I’ve watched a lot of The Cosby Show, and Bill Cosby wouldn’t dump anyone on a lava planet. Least of all Theo.”

 

“So what would your ‘Bill Cosby’ do with an unconscious woman in the other room?” Drax asked.

 

Peter pointed at him confidently. “I don’t know! But it’d probably involve a really good sweater.”

 

“I am Groot!”

 

“The tree’s right,” Rocket said, “whatever we’re doing, we’d better do it soon, cuz she’s waking up.”

 

“I think an impassioned plea to her better nature,” Gamora began, before being drowned out by everyone’s boos. “ _Says the bunch of jackasses who all fell for an appeal to their better natures!”_

“Crap, we did,” Rocket realized.

 

“I have no better nature,” Drax said. “All my nature is the best!”

 

“Green thumb’s got a point,” Peter quipped. “All of us being here kinda proves that there’s hope for anyone to turn to the Light Side, and that’s why we can’t just kill them. Unless they’re Ronan. Or Korath. Or Thanos, I guess, if we ever got the chance. But there’s a line, and if Gamora’s on one side of that line, Nebula should be too!”

 

“Everyone on your ‘line’ have to be a hot space babe?” Rocket asked.

 

“Hey! I treat everyone like they’re hot space babes, even fat chicks!” Clearing his throat, Peter turned to Gamora. “Go ahead, G. Tell her about Truth, Justice, and the American Way.”

 

Gamora didn’t even bother to bring up her unfamiliarity with the American Way. “I’m not talking to her.”

 

“You’re her sister!”

 

“I can’t talk to her when she gets like this.”

 

“Gets like what?”

 

There was a resounding crash from inside the holding bathroom—much like someone would make kicking the door very hard. Just as loud: several untranslatable alien curses that sounded to Peter like one of his tapes wearing out.

 

“She cannot be allowed to threaten the integrity of this vessel!” Drax declaimed.

 

“She won’t,” Gamora said confidently. “I disabled her body-mods while she was unconscious. She has no enhanced strength. I’m sure even Groot could handle her in this state.”

 

“I am Groot!”

 

“Yeah,” Rocket agreed, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“Dude’s a scrub, Rocket, come on,” Peter interjected.

 

“Oh, _oh,_ how long’d it take you to grow out of being a twig?”

 

The door crashed again, more untranslatable alien curses followed. These ones seeming to be in pain.

 

“Alright,” Peter said, “I’m the leader, I’ll talk to her.”

 

“Who made you the leader?”

 

“ _Because I’m the one talking to the dangerous crazy lady prisoner!”_

“I will talk to the prisoner!” Drax said.

 

“No offense, but I don’t think you’d make a very good therapist somehow.”

 

“I would merely tell her that she may either cease her life of villainy or be deposited on a lava planet.”

 

“I thought we agreed, no lava planets!” Gamora barked.

 

“This would be a stratagem.”

 

“Yeah, great poker face, pal. I’m going in.”

 

Peter threw open the door and found Nebula hopping on one foot, holding the other in her hands. Clearly, kicking a chromium bulkhead wasn’t covered by the warranty of whatever she was using for toes.

 

Upon seeing him, Nebula put her foot down (Peter would try to remember that double meaning thing for later). “Release me at once!”

 

“Yeah…” Peter shut the door behind him. “I would, personally, but the crew and, well, me, we all have some concerns about you… terrorizing and killing innocent people which, maybe you’ll admit, are kinda valid…?”

 

“I will rip your spine from your grac’loc!”

 

“Joke’s on you, lady, don’t even have a—“

 

Nebula bounded at him, jamming him against the door, but without her cybernetics, Peter was able to (with some difficulty) outmuscle her and shove her back.

 

“Okay, quit that! Not cool!”

 

“I don’t need machine parts to destroy you! After the martial world of Karia IV was burned from the sky, my father Thanos brought its greatest warriors, bloodied and beaten, to teach me what they could of their failings on pain of their family’s death! I learned the secret screams embedded in every sapient body and how to extract them with my bare hands!”

 

She dove forward, throwing her weight into a kick. Peter caught it, just barely, and shoved hard. Nebula fell back, doing a somewhat undignified hop to keep from falling over.

 

“I just made that up,” Peter said.

 

Nebula was beside herself. “ _How?”_

“Have you listened to me talk? Do you really think this is the first time I’ve gotten into a fight? Shit, once you’ve rough-housed with the Ravagers, there’s not a bunch of Bruce Lee jumping and yowling you’re not ready for.”

 

Nebula nodded respectfully. “I suppose the error is mine to underestimate anyone capable of deposing Ronan the Accuser.”

 

Peter nodded along. “Well, really, that was more of a team effort. I just—led everyone, told them what to do, inspired them with a bit of a speech. Drax, man, he gets pretty emotional. Anxiety. Had to get a little tough with him, say, ‘hey, Destroyer, these Kree guys are nothing—it’s your own demons you gotta fight. So get out there and win one for the Gipper!’”

 

Gamora cleared her throat. She’d opened the door. The hinges were a lot quieter since the Xandarians rebuilt the ship. “I’ll take it from here.”

 

“Oh, _now_ you wanna talk to her?” Peter asked, sneaking a frightened look past Gamora to see Drax asking Rocket ‘what is a Gipper?’

 

“I thought she’d need to get some kicking out of her system.”

 

“And you sent me in as a punching bag? Why not Drax, that’s what he’s—I mean, Drax is our expert in kicking. Right, Drax?” Peter gave Drax a big thumbs up.

 

“I do not have any demons,” Drax said. “If I did, I would order them to hunt down Thanos and consume his flesh!”

 

“Sister!” Nebula hissed behind him. “I should’ve known only you would be so weak as to leave me alive!”

 

“I’m also the only one who cares enough not to want Thanos to catch you and use you for a toothpick!”

 

Nebula actually bah-ed. Peter hadn’t thought people did that. “You merely want to spare yourself the vengeance I would wreck on you!”

 

Peter tried to play peacemaker. “I know I love not getting revenged on! And… the toothpick thing sounds bad.”

 

Nebula advanced on Gamora. “If you had an ounce of sense, you would kill me where I stand!”

 

“If you had an ounce of heart left in your metal body, you would see the gift I’m trying to give you!”

 

“So,” Rocket asked, “am I the only one getting a bit of a lesbo vibe here?”

 

“I am Groot!”

 

“What? They’re stepsisters! They’re not even the same color!”

 

“Not appropriate, Rock,” Peter said, firmly shutting the door. “Look, ladies—Nebula—we’re a bunch of reprobates, crooks, and… whatever Drax is. Someone out for revenge.”

 

“An avenger?” Gamora suggested.

 

He waved the name away. “Nah, that’s terrible. _Point is,_ you’re kinda family—like, distant family—and we’re not going to throw you under a bus just because you’ve tried to kill us and you hate us and you’re evil.”

 

“And why not?” Nebula demanded. “Because my sister won’t let you?”

 

“Because Gamora won’t—“ Peter coughed. “Because as it so happens, right now, on my planet, it’s the month of December. And do you know what that means where I’m from? It means _Christmas._ ”

 

“Actually,” Gamora said, “on your planet, it’d be November 20th.”

 

“Alright, I realize it’s ridiculous to talk about Christmas before it’s even December, but work with me here. I’m sure with—traveling at the speed of light and relativity and all that kooky stuff, it’s Christmas somewhere. Because this is the day, that in a little over a month will be the day when something very special happened.” Peter didn’t notice the door opening, Rocket and Drax and Groot all listening in. “Two thousand years ago, a very important man was born. And you know what his name was? _Santa._ And he looked around at the North Pole and what do you think he saw? Elves. Reindeer. Maybe someone else would’ve looked for a change of scenery, but ol’ Saint Nick—that’s another name for Santa—he said ‘hey. What if these reindeer could fly? I bet they could pull a sleigh, all around the world, delivering presents to little boys and girls who aren’t poor. And these crazy little elves? I bet they could make those presents!’ And so every Christmas, those flying reindeer, those tiny elves, that big guy in the red suit—again, Santa—they work together and all the good kids in the world get presents, because they’ve been nice all year long, not naughty. And that’s the true meaning of Christmas! Being nice, so people will _give you stuff._ Nebula—what do you think Santa would say if he looked at you right now? Do you think he’d bring you… what do you want Santa to bring you?”

 

“An Infinity Stone,” Nebula said confidently. “So I could drive my enemies before me and rule the galaxy in a reign of fear—“

 

“Okay, Infinity Stone, got it. Do you think Santa would look at you, with all the people you’ve killed and the hurtful things you’ve said and okay, everything else kinda pales in comparison to the dead people, do you think he’d look at you and all the people you’ve killed and say ‘yes, this person deserves an Infinity Gem’?”

 

Nebula stared at her feet. “I—suppose—not?”

 

“No, he wouldn’t. But do you know what else happens on Christmas? It’s not just for kids. Whole families get together just to be together. And maybe some of the old people think all black people are criminals and don’t do anything but watch Diagnosis: Murder, and maybe some of the young people are hippies who just won’t stop talking about Africa, and maybe everyone drinks too much, but you still all get together, because eggnog tastes good, and watching A Charlie Brown Christmas is just better with a whole living room full of people, and opening presents is a lot better when you can play with other people’s toys too! And Hanukkah’s a thing too, I guess, I don’t really know a lot about that! And Kwanzaa, I don’t know what that is at all, I’m not black, but I just thought I’d mention it! The point is, Nebula, you’re kinda sorta family. And if every family on Earth that isn’t black or Jewish can come together today, or December 25th, and just _not kill each other—_ why can’t this one?”

 

“He’s right,” Gamora muttered. “Somehow.”

 

Nebula looked askew. “I suppose—making my way through the cosmos, hunted by Thanos’s henchmen would be—easier—if I had some people watching my back. Is that what family means?”

 

“Nebula,” Peter said sincerely, “that’s the most important meaning of family there is. Now, let’s go cut the turkey!”

 

“We don’t have turkey,” Rocket said. “We have a big crab thing.”

 

“Let’s go cut the big crab thing!”

 

***

 

Nebula supposed if she had to be on the run, there was no reason to deprive herself of good cooking. Groot made for a surprisingly good cook, and the ship had a surprisingly expansive selection of herbs and spices, even though she hadn’t seen any in the kitchen—

 

Oh. Oh no.

 

Putting aside her plate, Nebula drank a lot of water and said to her neighbor. “So. Gamora.”

 

“Sister,” Gamora said formally.

 

“The male. Are you—affiliated with him?”

 

“What, Drax?”

 

“No, the other one.”

 

“ _Rocket?”_

“No. _The other one._ ”

 

“Groot? It’s a tree, it doesn’t have a gender.”

 

“ _The other, other one._ ”

 

Gamora blinked. “ ** _Peter?”_**

****

“Yes,” Nebula confirmed. “The _Star-Lord._ ”

 

Gamora held back a laugh. “No. We’re not together.”

 

Nebula nodded. “Good.”

 

“Good?”

 

“He’s rather… cute.”

 

Gamora wondered if this kind of thing ever happened during Kwanzaa.


End file.
